What the actual FUCK just happened?
This seems to be the question of a lifetime as I come off an incredible high after a weekend in New York (more on that later) and the fucking craziest wrestling show I will ever attend. We’re about 24 hours removed from The Wrld on GCW, hailing straight from none other than the Hammerstein Ballroom smack dab in the middle of NYC. I have no idea where I’m at, what happened, or how in the world my life got me here. A good ole wrestling hangover to the most extreme degree.
So let me discuss.
This was my first GCW event. I guess at this point you could group me in with the casual wrestling fans. I don’t have the time, energy, or mental capacity to catch every single show, but I do make an effort to keep updated. On the contrary to that, I bought my Hammerstein tickets instantly. Without knowing a single name, without knowing the card. I bought the tickets for me and my girlfriend because even if the show sucked, at the end of the day we would have a whole New York trip under our belts. And I bought these tickets during a very bad time for me. You all probably rolled your eyes at that and yeah yeah whatever I know I get it. But it’s true. I bought the tickets because I needed something. And I ended up with wayyyyyy more than I ever expected.
But enough with the dramatics (for now).
As we got closer and closer to the date matches and names started to get announced, my excitement level was at a solid 6.5. But then I had some health problems and things happened and suddenly I needed to go to this show. It became less and less about the show itself and more about… proving something I guess? Or maybe it was just getting a certain diagnosis and knowing that realistically, things are probably about to get pretty bad so why not live it up now? But I digress.
About two weeks away a switch flips and I’m fucking PUMPED for this show. I had a little countdown on my phone and I checked, rechecked, and stared at that countdown like my life depended on it.
And then something unexpected happens.
Homicide wins a shot at the GCW Championship. And then Jon Moxley gets announced for the show.
What. The. Fuck.
Jon Moxley vs 187 in the HAMMERSTEIN BALLROOM.
Well I about died.
So yesterday finally comes and holy shit. There were wrestling fans everywhere. At this point I’m starting to get overwhelmed. I had absolutely no idea what I was in for. And my girlfriend? This was her second wrestling show ever. I had watched a couple GCW shows before so I knew things there tend to get a little crazy. But the whole day my excitement and anxiety and one hundred coffees were getting to me and I swear I didn’t stop jumping or moving all day.
“Doors in 6 hours!”
“Doors in 3 hours!”
All of a sudden the show that I bought tickets for as an excuse to get out of town, see my dream city, and leave the weight of the past few months behind was here. And all of those things disappeared and it was just me and wrestling and oh my god did I mention how fucked excited I was?
Anyways.
Aside from a few people I ended up being familiar with most of the names on the card.
There’s a lot of moments where I truly lost it, but you have to understand the circumstances this show was put on under. You have to understand the gravity of a wrestling show, a GCW show, in the Hammerstein. Sold out! Maximum capacity! Singing We Built This City with that crowd? Absolutely insane. It was far from another Sunday in a tired old street. Say what you want, but Joey Janela vs Matt Cardona was some of the most fun I’ve had in my whole 18 years of living. Oh Joey Janela, national treasure. Of course I have to talk a little more about Mox and Homicide. I mean come on. Jon Moxley indie matches in the 2020’s has been my favorite genre of wrestling. There’s just no comparing. But again I stress that this was just so different from anything else. It’s been my experience that sometimes when you have a show that’s so built up and you’re there live and it’s so exciting there’s just not enough energy to give to the later-on-the-card matches. But I swear to god the roof came off that ballroom. My girlfriend and I alone did enough cheering for the whole city to hear. I mean I truly feel like that place went mad. Say what you want about it but the “fuck Bull Ray” chants were oddly satisfying and something I will remember for ever. Did it do anyone any good? No, but it was fun and didn’t really take away from the match or the performers. And to top the whole night off? NICK GAGE. Nick fucking Gage.
So the show ends and my adrenaline is so high I feel like I could have jumped off a building and walked away unscathed. But for once I didn’t want to jump off a building. I felt more alive than I ever have and I wasn’t even working the show, I was a mere body in the audience.
So I wake up this morning, head pounding, eyes burning, begging me to go back to bed, my mind filled with no recollection of anything that happened past the main event. How did I get to my hotel? Where did I go after the show? I literally don’t have a clue. It was a true wrestling hangover, and one I haven’t felt in a long
time. It all feels very fever dream-ish.
That brings us to the one thing I’ve been repeating since 11:45 last night.
What the FUCK just happened?
Did I really die? I think I died. I think I’m dead. It feels like I died it really does. I laid in bed this morning and stared at the ceiling for for forty-five minutes humming We Built This City and smiling like a psychopath. I don’t think my girlfriend even went to sleep, and all she can say is “that was insane,” “that was awesome.” And I think we might have died.
Forget the matches. Forget the card and the names. The atmosphere itself was enough to send me to another dimension. Everywhere you look there was people cheering, screaming, jumping, even crying (maybe that was just me). And my mind is blown because I didn’t know life could feel like that. Or maybe I just forgot. Again I don’t know. But I do know that if felt so much bigger than me, so much bigger than life. To be apart of something so special, so rare? I just don’t have the words to explain it.
All hail GCW. And all hail New York. And fuck Bully Ray. And if Matt Cardona wins we riot. And again I yell, “Marconi plays the mamba!”
And long live GCW.
And Rest In Peace Liz for her mind and soul lay rest at the Hammerstein.
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